


A Vow to the Maker

by persephinae



Series: A Vow to the Maker [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:43:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephinae/pseuds/persephinae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Cullen realizes he loves Inquisitor Lavellan:</p><p>Cullen's admiration and attraction for Lavellan started at Haven, but at Skyhold everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vow to the Maker

**Author's Note:**

> haha Cullen x Lavellan is my otp and i can't stop writing headcanons, fluff and drabbles.. SO.. it became this..
> 
> i hope you like it.
> 
> edit 5/16/15: updated to finish out the chapter, also used the suggested given name for Lavellan so it wouldn't be so jarring to see some name that totally doesn't fit with her character >.>

CULLEN:

 

_**"Is there something out there? Should we send scouts to investigate?"** _

 

Cullen snapped out of his daydreams and quickly turned from the window towards Lavellan. He could feel his neck and cheeks heating with embarrassment. "No!"

 

Sighing with resignation and embarrassment, he glanced at her and rubbed his neck. "There's no need. You merely caught me shirking my duties, Inquisitor. The sky was so blue today... it's... a nice change from the freezing rain we had for the past few days." He knew it sounded inane as soon as he said it, but it was as if his lips had bypassed his brain. At least it was true. He could have brushed her off or pretended that he had much too much work, _which he did_ , but he would rather be truthful with her. Well, maybe not that truthful. Maker preserve him if she asked what he was actually daydreaming about.

 

Lavellan merely smiled, which made his gaze zero in on her glorious mouth. _Maker, how I love her mouth._ He could write sonnets about her mouth. His eyes darted to one inconspicuous book amidst the scads of other books on his bookshelves. He wasn't terribly worried anyone would find it, but you never knew.

 

She walked around his large desk to stand a bit closer and look out the window as well. He could almost reach out and touch her hair, to feel the strands tumble through his fingers. He clenched his hands tightly against the temptation and forced himself to concentrate on the conversation.

 

“You're right. It's a beautiful day, Commander.” She looked up at him, still smiling gently. “You should take a break from your duties and rest for a moment.” She cocked her head to the side. “You look tired.”

 

Cullen absently rubbed the back of his neck. “There's just so much to do. I find myself solving one issue and five more appear. It's never finished.” He sighed and straightened his paperwork. So much paperwork. Ugh.

 

Still smiling, she nervously pressed her lips together, as if she was biting back words. She pushed her hair behind an ear and faced the window again, clasping her hands together behind her back. She took a calming breath and asked, “If you don't mind, and if it's not a bother, I'd like for you to take a look at the new horse Master Dennet picked up. It's beautiful, and I'd like your opinion on it.”

 

She turned to look at him again, her eyes wide as she waited for him to answer. She had beautiful, expressive eyes. Sometimes he daydreamed about just staring into her eyes to watch the light play across their depths. _Maker, he had it bad._ Cullen half-smiled sardonically, “Well, since someone says I could use a break, I shall gladly use this opportunity to take a break from my duties and see to this new horse.”

 

Lavellan smiled happily at him and followed him to the door. Cullen, to no one's surprise, held the door open for her and gestured her to precede him. “My Lady..”

 

In an almost teasing note she answered, “Thank you, kind Ser.” She clasped her hands behind her back while she waited for him to close the door and follow her down to the stables.  They walked side by side on the battlements. The usually ever present mountain winds were still today, so the sun had a chance to shine warm upon them. He wanted so badly to close the distance between them. He wished he were more bold, but... what if it was all in his head? What if everything he imagined between them was just that? Imaginings and unwanted attention. He sighed and glanced towards the mountains. Sometimes, Cullen thought that what happened at the Ferelden Circle would haunt him for the rest of his life. His brow furrowed in sorrow and regret, and he tried to casually look sideways at Lavellan. She had stopped for a moment on the stairs.

 

Not even noticing how much she let her guard down, Lavellan smiled, closed her eyes, and lifted her face towards the sun for a moment. “Mmm.. that feels so good. I'm glad the snowstorms miss us on this side of the mountains, but it does still get cold up here. I miss the warmth sometimes.”

 

Cullen stopped and stared at her face raised towards the sun, and felt his gut churn with want. Absently he lifted his hand from the railing and lightly grasped at his heart. His heartbeat seemed loud and filled his ears for a moment. With a slow clarity that you sometimes felt in dreams, he realized that this was what Lavellan was to him, sunshine and warmth. His life before seemed cold and empty compared to this.

 

He blinked as if waking, and she was already walking forward again, oblivious to his lack of motion. Sound came to him again, and filled the air with its clamor and noise. He could hear the blacksmith busy clanging in the smithy, horses neighing, a few harts stomping and pacing their stalls, and the incessant chatter of the courtyard. He rubbed at his eyes and felt weary for a moment. Perhaps Lavellan was right, he did need a break. How would he serve the Inquisition if he collapsed from fatigue?

 

When he opened his eyes again, Lavellan was suddenly before him looking concerned. “I'm so sorry! I was so excited to show you the new horse, that I forgot how tired you were. Are you alright?” She reached up towards him and placed her hand upon his brow, feeling for his temperature. He was very tempted to close his eyes again and bask in the sensation of her small hand touching him.

 

He forced himself to look down in her eyes, and gently removed her hand. “No. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry for worrying you, Inquisitor.” He smiled to lessen her worry and squeezed her hand. “It seems you were correct. I did need a break from those reports. I thank you for this reprieve.”

 

Gently, he placed his hand upon the small of her back, and gave a small push to lead her towards the stables. “Come, my Lady Inquisitor. Please show me your new horse.”

 

Slowly walking forward, Lavellan looked back with a concerned, questioning gaze.

 

“I'll be fine. I'm quite alright. Just tired, apparently. As you said.” Cullen gently pushed her again.

 

She pursed her lips, not quite believing him, but turned forward again and continued walking. She was slightly ahead of him, so he had the pleasure of gazing at her without her knowing. He watched the sunlight on her hair, turning her red hair an almost blazing swath of crimson. He knew her hair at a hundred paces, and could always track her as she raced from one end of Skyhold to the other. Sometimes, if he was feeling fanciful, he liked to think he could track her anywhere. By the red of her hair, by the lingering wafts of her perfumed scent, or by the bemused male gazes that made him want to snarl in jealousy.

 

Cullen didn't know when the attraction towards Lavellan started. At first she was just some elf, a suspect for the obliteration of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. There were always elves, Dalish and Alienage, who fought against the oppression of their people. He sympathized, but would never condone murder or terrorism. He saw enough of that at Kirkwall.

 

Inwardly, he shuddered at the reminder and made himself concentrate on her. Slowly, her deeds began to speak for her. This prisoner, with every reason to hate humans, hate her jailors, used her magic and her command over the Rifts to save people. She chose the arduous route through the mountain pass to save whatever remained of the Inquisition forces there. She had no memory of why she was thrown into such a predicament, but she kept bravely facing forward towards what would terrify any other person. She faced down demons and the possibility of her own death to try and close the Breach. She didn't question her fate, only to understand the mark on her hand, and how to use it to defeat Corypheus.

 

Time and time again, she rode off with her companions to close rifts across Ferelden and Orlais, with no thought of _not_ going. It was just something a part of her very being, that if there was something she could do to help, then by the Maker (or her elven gods as the case may be), she would do it. Probably with a smile.

 

Cullen remembered watching her obliquely at Haven, as she tried to get a gauge on what the Inquisition was and what her role was to be. She had raced around Haven as well. Always talking to people. Asking her companions about themselves. Asking him and the other advisors what they thought about various things. Even common soldiers. Sometimes, she'd just stand out of the way in the commotion of the training yards, and listen to the soldiers talking. She'd cock her head sideways at these strange humans and just listened as they chatted and argued amongst themselves. Probably taking advantage of her status as an elf and how they were viewed as servants hovering in the background of life.

 

Lavellan did not have a commanding presence. People did not automatically sense her or bow to her personality, as they might towards Cassandra. But she had a patient and curious gentleness, that had people slowly opening up like petals towards the sun.

 

Cullen did remember, clearly, that day she came to speak to him at Skyhold. The Inquisition and refugees had just settled in, and there was so much too do. Cullen was barking orders left and right, trying to get them all prepared and in working order. He knew that there could be no repeat of Haven. He had just given orders to a slow moving clerk, when suddenly, she was there.

 

He had stood there, as her Commander of the Inquisition forces and tried to keep it so. He did not want to dwell on her escape from Corypheus and subsequent rescue in the blizzard. At the time, he could not say why he was so bound and determined to search for the Inquisitor. Any other sane person would know that whoever had faced what she had, would in all likelihood be dead within moments. A small elven mage against a Tevinter darkspawn with delusions of godhood? Who commanded a dragon that might well be an Archdemon? Madness. It would be a forgone conclusion that it would be a noble sacrifice and that they would die in the process.

 

He _saw_ her face when that ghostly demon boy told her why Corypheus was really attacking. He heard all her anguish as she realized _she_ was the reason people were dying. He then saw how amazingly brave she was when she ordered everyone to escape through the secret passages and informed her advisors that she would buy them some time. She was afraid, but she did not let that fear rule her. There were things more important than her fear. People depended upon her and her actions. There was no hesitation in her that day. She stood with her companions, fought bravely, and did what she promised. She bought them time to escape at the risk of her own life. With her last breath, she defied a would-be god, and was lost to snow and darkness. That she survived and rose from that darkness to lead them all forward was a miracle, Herald of Andraste or not.

 

Cullen had told himself throughout their stay at Haven that his attraction to Lavellan was merely admiration, respect, and perhaps even just the oddity of a beautiful Dalish elf leading the Inquisition. As he grew accustomed to her presence and her many questions, he had found his gaze absently searching the training yard for her red hair on a daily basis. And then _**that**_ day. That day that Lavellan came up to him in the training yard with a bold look in her eyes, blush on her cheeks, and biting her lip nervously, asked him personal questions about his life as a Templar and their vows. For some nights afterward, he lay in his room, staring at the ceiling and reliving that moment over and over again. _Did she really mean what he thought she meant? Was she just curious like always? Was she flirting? Was she mocking?_ **No.** Lavellan would never mock or tease someone maliciously. He knew that just from the short time he had worked with her. Slowly, hope began to unfurl in his heart, and he looked forward to seeing her.

 

So on that other momentous day, when Lavellan sought him out at Skyhold, hope began to bloom again when she nervously told him that she was glad he had made it out of Haven as well. Blushing, she earnestly thanked him for everything, and then looked up into his eyes and told Cullen she was glad that he was alive. And it seemed with those words, the ice around his heart began to thaw. After all his trials and suffering, she stood there before him, grateful to have him there and alive.

 

“Commander... Cullen.. Cullen! Are you all right? You're worrying me!” Lavellan's voice broke through his musings and brought him back to the present.

 

He blinked and looked around at the barn and saw that they were in front of her designated stall. Cullen looked down into her worried face. “I beg your pardon, Inquisitor. I didn't mean to worry you.” Boldly, for Cullen, he stepped a bit closer to her. Absently, his voice deepened with want, “I was just thinking on something.”

 

She shivered for a moment and licked her luscious lips, “Something?”

 

Cullen's attention zoomed in on those lips, and like the unstoppable pull of gravity, felt himself lean forward just as Lavellan's eyes widened in understanding and blushed with desire. His gut clenched and his heart was pounding loudly. Lavellan unconsciously stepped forward and placed a small hand upon his chest plate, her fingers absently widening and tracing the indentations of his armor. _Aah, she felt that pull too. There was no mistake._ His heart was still pounding fiercely, drowning out all sound but the inhalation of her breaths, but he felt a weight drop off his shoulders. He felt a small serenity amidst this desire. _She felt it too._ He wasn't imagining things. He was not going where he was not wanted. And she definitely wanted him. He finally felt at ease and excited at all the possibilities before him. Her breathing was shallow and grasped at the cloth in his armor.

 

A loud neighing bellow broke the spell, as her horse chose that moment to let his presence be known to the two interlopers outside of his stall. Lavellan's eyes opened in shock and jumped in his arms. “BY THE DREAD WOLF!”

 

The horse bellowed another neigh and poked it's head through the stall window, trying to see what was going on and bopping her head in the process. She let out a shaking laugh that escalated into full blown giggles. Inwardly he groaned. Of all the timing. He took a deep breath to fortify himself and try to calm his thundering heart. He rubbed his neck as she tried to compose herself as well. She had an adorable laugh and he was going to spontaneously combust of lust and unfulfilled longing. Maybe he was a fool deluding himself with impossible dreams. He sighed and dragged his hand over his mouth, absently rubbing against his stubble.

 

Suddenly he felt her hand upon his arm and looked down into her eyes. She had wonderful, beautiful expressive eyes the color of precious peridot gems, or sunlight through forest leaves. _Maker's breath, everything about her reminded him of warmth and sunshine.  He burned with thoughts of her._ Lavellan's smile slowly faded and bit her lip as she moved closer. She cocked her head as she delicately traced her fingers over the fabric on his arm. Never had he been so sensitive to someone's touch and now he felt like his blood was on fire with desire. “That was a bit startling.. and funny to be honest, but.. I believe you were interrupted.. _Commander_..” Her voice was low and thrumming with want, as well. Her smile became wicked with anticipation.

 

Taking a deep breath because suddenly there was _no air_ in his lungs, he gently, yet firmly took her arm and led her away from the horses, having learned that having personal time in front of horses was a _bad idea_. He found a clean empty stall and standing there, he gazed at her to his heart's desire. He watched emotions play across her face and her eyes as she watched him as well. He took off his gloves, hooked them on his belt, and softly held her face, his rough calloused hands contrasting with the incredible softness of her skin. It almost felt like sacrilege to be touching something that felt so pure to him. He lightly traced the contour of her cheek, and then gently pushed his fingers through her hair. He closed his eyes for a moment in bliss to be touching her and just feeling her hair. He opened his eyes to see that she had her own eyes closed in bliss, her cheeks flushed and her mouth quirked in a contented smile. His heart felt like a bird that was finally free, no longer frozen or shackled. It soared within his chest and he felt peace with her near. It felt like home.

 

Ah, he wished he had the words to tell her, but it was if words eluded him and were caught in his throat. He sighed in frustration at himself and his life, to be honest. Still gently cupping her cheek, he cleared his throat like an idiot, trying to push through this awkwardness to tell her. “Please..” he stopped but pushed forward again, “Call me Cullen. To the world and to the Inquisition, I may hold the title of Commander of the Inquisition's forces, but to you, I am but Cullen. A beleaguered man who doesn't deserve any of this, least of all you.” He leaned down until he was a fraction of an inch away. “I feel as if I'm reaching beyond my grasp, beyond my station. You shine so beautifully, that I feel like I'm grasping for the stars.” He shifted the weight on his feet, unsure of everything for a moment.

 

Lavellan smiled and moved her hands up towards his own face, feeling the roughness of his weathered face and stubble. She was so soft. _Maker, what did she even see in him._ He closed is eyes in blissful agony. “Cullen.. you're so full of doubts. I meant what I said on the battlements that day when we kissed.” Cullen opened his eyes to stare into hers, his gaze intense. Her voice was soft and low, “I know we're both very busy. You have an army to coordinate and take care of, and I have to be the Inquisitor as I race across Thedas to close all the Rifts. But, you have been avoiding me.. and perhaps.. I've been avoiding it too..” Her eyes welled with emotion. “It's so new.. for the both of us.” She softly rubbed her thumb over his lips, tracing his scar. “But I meant what I said, Cullen. I don't know what's between us, but.. I think about you constantly...” Her eyes narrowed in thoughtful desire, “More than you know. And I don't know what the future may hold, but for now I'd like this. Have I made myself plain enough for you? I know you're very good at boundaries and what is proper, but..” She wet her lips gazing at his own. She blinked, then smiled and looked up at his eyes again. “I want this. And besides... you have no room to talk with asking to be on a first name basis, _Commander_ , if you cannot think to call my own name.” She smiled mischievously at him and bit her lip, her left hand lowered to his collar to caress his neck and play with his hair. _Maker, he was lost._

 

He half-smiled sardonically, “I apologize, my Lady, Inquisitor Lavellan. You've been Lavellan in my thoughts since Haven. I didn't dare call you by your name, even in my thoughts.” He lowered his head towards hers again, and in a low voice thick with desire, whispered her name upon her lips, “Ellana” Cullen closed his eyes and lightly kissed her lips as a prelude, savoring their texture and softness. Through half-closed eyes he gently traced the lines of her vallaslin upon her cheeks. “And what does your name mean among your people, may I ask?”

 

Her eyes half-opened as she answered him, smiling in content. “It means 'One who has the ability to do anything'. I was hope to my parents who had me late in life as an unexpected, but joyful surprise. Sometimes, they called me by the endearment ' _m_ _a'lasha_ ', 'My Hope'” This time, it was she who became a bit bold, and leaned up to kiss his lips. Cullen moaned against her lips in bliss and clutched her closer. She breathed a happy sigh and smiled in her kiss. Alas, they could not embrace for long, as his armor was uncomfortable and dug into her skin. She kissed his scar with a quick butterfly kiss and broke away, leaning back in his arm and breathing heavily.

 

He was breathing heavily as well, but he was steady holding her. For which she was grateful, as at the moment her legs were a bit weak. She felt bereft of his warmth now that she wasn't pressed against him. The man was a furnace and that was a fact. She pressed her lips together tightly, almost biting her lip as she thought wicked fantasies of them entwined and the heat of his body pressed against her. She shivered at the thought. His face, so rugged and careworn, was so filled with tenderness towards her that it made her want to weep at it all. Ellana lightly ran her fingers through his hair, pushing back wayward tufts that had fallen in his face. His hair was so thick and springy. She smiled at the thought of it being prone to curl.

 

Cullen smiled in return and asked contentedly, “And what has you smiling so oddly?”

 

Biting back a smile, Ellana answered, “Oh... just thinking about how your hair must be prone to curl in humidity or left to its own devices. It must be a chore for you to brush it all out every morning.”

 

Cullen barked out an endearing, inelegant laugh that made her beam in response. He laughed so infrequently, was so solomn, that it felt like the sun shining on cloudy day when he smiled or laughed. He ran his palm over his hair self-consciously. “I'm afraid you're right.” His lips quirked in a self-depreciating smile. “My hair has been the bane of my existence for most of my life. Very labor intensive.” He sighed realizing that they should return. He gazed down at her and traced the contour of her bottom lip, warming her blood again and wondering why they should return. “I would like this again sometime. Please come see me whenever you want. I am at your disposal, and while we're both busy and needed, I think I need you to remind me to take a break now and again.”

 

Boldly, he leaned forward to kiss her again, and she wrapped her arms around him, both savoring this last kiss. “It's a forgone conclusion that I'm addicted to you.” He pecked her one last time, and again, said her name upon her lips, “Ellana, _ma'lasha_.”

 

Her legs gave out and she moaned sweetly against him as she grasped his fur mantle hard. “You... don't _do_ that to me when we have to part.” She bit her lip in frustrated desire and kissed his jaw by his senstive ears, whispering, “I'll get you back, _Arasha_.  Now go get some rest.”

 

It was Cullen's turn to shiver with delight.  "Don't do _that_!  And what about your horse?"  He rubbed his neck and pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing at his eyes.

 

Ellana took a step back, holding his hand and reluctant to part.  "It's more important to me that you get some rest.  You do too much.  You can look at it another time."  She gently caressed his brow, "Please? For me, Cullen?"

  
Cullen kissed her hand, and sighed resignedly.  "As my Lady Inquisitor commands."  He softly ran his thumb over her knuckles.  "I can but only hope that I dream of you while I rest."

Ellana kissed his cheek and shooed him from the stables and towards his tower.  


End file.
